Peregrine's Progress

by Jeffery Farnol

  CHAPTER XII

  HOW I WENT UPON AN EXPEDITION WITH MR. SHRIG

  I had been ringing ineffectually at the bell of my chambers forperhaps five minutes and was about to visit the adjacent mews in questof my groom, when a voice spoke my name, and turning about, I beheldMr. Shrig, the Bow Street officer.

  "Mr. Werricker, sir," said he, touching his low-crowned, wide-brimmedhat with a thick forefinger, "it ain't no manner o' use you a-ringin'o' that theer bell, because there ain't nobody to answer same, youryoung man Clegg 'aving took a little 'oliday, d'ye see, sir."

  "A holiday, Mr. Shrig! Pray how do you know?"

  "By obserwation, sir. I've a powerful gift that way, sir--from ainfant."

  "This is very extraordinary behaviour in Clegg!"

  "But then, sir, your young man is a rayther extraordinary young man.'Owsoever he's gone, sir, and I appre'end as he ain't a-comin'back--judgin' by vat 'e says in 'is letter."

  "What letter?"

  "The letter as 'e's left for you a-layin' on your desk this werryminute along o' my stick as I 'appened to forget--but you'll bevantin' to gain hadmittance, I expect, sir."

  "I do."

  "Vy then, 't is rayther fortunate as I did forget my stick or Ishouldn't ha' come back for it in time to be o' service to you, Mr.Werricker. By your leave, sir." Saying which, Mr. Shrig took a small,neat implement from one of his many capacious pockets, inserted itinto the keyhole, gave it a twist, and the door swung open.

  "Ah--a skeleton key, Mr. Shrig?"

  "That werry i-dentical, sir."

  "Is this how you gained admittance to my chambers?"

  "Ex-actly, sir."

  "And, being there, read my private letters?"

  "Only the vun, sir--dooty is dooty--only the vun. And I've a varranto' search--"

  Entering my small library, I espied Mr. Shrig's knobbed staff lyingupon my desk and beside it a letter laid carefully apart from a pileof unopened missives.

  "Is this the letter?"

  "The werry same, sir."

  "But if you have read it, how comes the seal unbroken?"

  "By means of a warm knife-blade, sir."

  Wondering, I opened the letter and read as follows:

  SIR:I regret that I am forced by circumstances to quit your service at amoment's notice, but trust you will find all in order as regardstradesmen's accounts, your clothes, linen, napery, etc. The key of thesilver you will find under the hearthrug.

  Hoping you will find one as zealous as the unfortunate writer,

  I remain, sir, Yours respectfully, THOMAS CLEGG.

  "Very strange!" said I.

  "Ah!" sighed Mr. Shrig. "But then life generally is, Mr. Werricker,sir, if you'll take the trouble to ob-serve; so strange that I ain'tnever surprised at nothing--nowhere and nohow, sir. For instance, ifyou a-peepin' from the garret winder o' the 'ouse opposite--yonderacross the street--'ad 'appened to ob-serve a young fe-male on herknees--here beside your werry own desk and veepin' fit to break 'er'eart, pore soul--you'd ha' been surprised, I think--but I wasn't, no,not nohow--"

  "Do you mean you actually saw a woman here--here in my chambers?"

  "Aye, I did, sir!"

  "Who--who was she?"

  "A wictim o' wiciousness, sir."

  "What in the world do you mean? Who was she?"

  "Well, d'ye 'appen to know a young woman name of Nancy Price, sir?"

  "No!"

  "And yet you've 'ad same in your arms, Mr. Werricker, sir."

  "What the devil are you suggesting?" I demanded angrily.

  "I suggest as you found same young woman in a vood at midnight andcarried 'er to a inn called the 'Soaring Lark.'"

  "Good heavens!" I exclaimed. "That unfortunate creature?"

  "That werry same i-dentical, sir--a wictim o' wiciousness as your latelamented uncle, Sir Jervas, God bless 'im--amen!--saved from des'pritcourses--"

  "My uncle Jervas--" I exclaimed.

  "Saved from des'prit courses!" repeated Mr. Shrig. "Himself, sir. Lordlove him, 'e was always a-doin' of it; many a pore soul, male andfemale, 'e's saved from the river--ah, and worse as well, Iknow--ekally ready wi' fist or purse, ah, by Goles, an' vat vasbetter, with 'ope for the 'elpless an' 'elp for them as it seemednothin' nor nobody could reach 'cept the law--a friend to them asthought they 'ad no friend but death. A fine gentleman, sir--yes, atippy, a go, a bang-up blood, a reg'lar 'eavy-toddler, but most ofall--a man! And I says again, God bless 'im an' 'is memory--amen!"

  "Amen!" I repeated, while Mr. Shrig, tugging at something in thedepths of a capacious side pocket, eventually drew thence a large,vivid-hued handkerchief and blew his nose resoundingly; which done, heblinked at me, surely the mildest-seeming man in all the world,despite the brass-mounted pistol which, disturbed in its lurking placeby the sudden extrication of the handkerchief, peeped at me grimlyfrom his pocket.

  "Mr. Shrig, I should like to shake your hand," said I.

  "'Eartily an' vith a vill, sir!" he answered.

  "You see, I loved and honoured him also, Mr. Shrig."

  "Verefore an' therefore, sir, I make bold to ask if you're partic'lerbusy to-day?"

  "I am here to meet a friend and then I am for the country."

  "Tonbridge vay, sir?"

  "Yes, why do you ask?"

  "Because I've a call thereabouts myself to-day, an' if you vas mindedto go along, I'd be honoured, sir, honoured."

  "Thank you, Mr. Shrig, but--" I paused, for among the pile of unopenedletters I espied one addressed in a familiar hand and, breaking theseal, read:

  MY DEAR PERRY:Strong drink is raging, so am I, and London is the devil! Temptationdogs me, but a promise is a promise, so I have scuttled offignominiously. You will find me at the Chequers Inn, Tonbridge, if Iam not there to meet you, wait for me.

  By the way, ale is exempt from your proscription, of course.

  Yours to command now as ever,

  ANTHONY VERE-MANVILLE.

  "Mr. Shrig," said I, pocketing this letter, "when, pray, do youpropose to start Tonbridge way?"

  "This werry moment, sir."

  "Why, then I shall be happy to accompany you."

  "Are ye ready, sir?"

  "Quite; let us go!"

  So side by side we stepped out into the street; here Mr. Shrig,setting two fingers to his mouth, emitted a shrill whistle and roundthe corner came a tilbury behind a likely-looking horse driven by ared-faced man, who, at a sign from Mr. Shrig, descended from the loftyseat, into which we climbed forthwith.

  "T'morrer mornin', Joel!" said Mr. Shrig, taking up the reins; andflicking the horse, away we went at a sharp trot.

  "Do you propose to stay the night at Tonbridge, Mr. Shrig?"

  "Vy--it's all accordin' to Number Vun, sir. Number Vun set out forTonbridge but might be goin' further; v'ether 'e does or no, dependson Number Two."

  "I fear I do not understand you, Mr. Shrig."

  "Vich is 'ardly to be expected, sir. Y' see, perfeshionally speakin',I'm arter two birds as I 'opes to ketch alive an' dead."

  "But how can you catch anything alive and dead?"

  "Veil, then, let's say vun alive an' t' other 'un dead."

  "Ah--what kind of birds?"

  "Downy vuns, sir--'specially Number Vun!" and here my companion smiledand nodded benignantly.

  Mr. Shrig drove rapidly, threading his way through the traffic withthe ease of an experienced Jehu, and soon in place of dingy roofs andchimneys my eyes were blessed with the green of trees shading thefamiliar road which led, as I knew, to those leafy solitudes where one"might walk with God." And now there rushed upon me a memory ofDiana--Diana as she once had been--my Goddess of the Silent Places;and I yearned passionately for the irrevocable past and despaired inbitter hopelessness of the present and the long and lonely future.

  From these gloomy thoughts I was aroused by the sound of mycompanion's voice:

  "I am a-goin' on this here hexpe-dition, sir, with the expectation--Imay say with the 'ope sir, of finding a body--
"

  "A body of what?" I enquired absently.

  "Lord, Mr. Werricker, sir, vat should it be but a hum-ing body--acorpse, sir."

  "Horrible!" I exclaimed. "Who is it? Where did he die?"

  "Vell, sir," said Mr. Shrig, consulting a ponderous watch, "to thebest o' my judgment 'e ain't dead yet, no, not yet, I fancy, but twohours--say three--should do 'is business neat an' comfortable; yes--inthree hours 'e should be as nice a corpse as ever you might vish tosee--if the con-clusions as I've drawed is correct. An' talkin' o'murder, sir--"

  "Ah!" I exclaimed. "Is it murder?"

  "Sir," answered Mr. Shrig, "speakin' without prejudice, I answer you,it's a-goin' to be, or I'm a frog-eatin' Frenchman, vich God forbid,sir. An' speakin' o' murder, here's my attitood towards same--there'smurder as is murder an' there's murder as is justifiable 'omicide. Ifyou commits the fact for private wengeance, windictiveness or personalgain, then 't is murder damned an' vith a werry big he-M; but if so beyou commits the fact to rid yourself or friends an' the world ingeneral of evil, then I 'old 't is a murder justifiable. Consequentlyit will go to my 'eart to appre-'end this here murderer."

  "Who is he?" I demanded.

  "Ex-cuse me, sir--no! Seein' as 'ow this cove, though a murderer inintent, ain't a murderer in fact, yet--you must ex-cuse me if Iwith'old 'is name. And here's Eltham Village an' yonder's the 'Man o'Kent' a good 'ouse v'ere I'm known, so if you'll 'old the 'oss, sir,I'll get down and ax a question or so."

  And I, sitting outside this sleepy hostelry in this quiet villagestreet, thought no more of Mr. Shrig's gruesome errand, but rather ofshady copse, of murmurous brooks and of one whose vivid presence hadbeen an evergrowing joy and inspiration, waking me to nobler manhood,filling me with aspirations to heroic achievement; and to-day here satI, lost in futile dreams--scorning myself for a miserable failurewhile the soul within me wept for that Diana of the vanished past--

  "Right as ninepence, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Shrig, beaming cheerily as heclambered up beside me. "My birds 'as flew this vay, sure enough!"

  Thus as we drove I sat alternately lost in these distressfulimaginings or hearkening to my companion's animadversions upon rogues,criminals, and crime in general until, as the afternoon waned, wedescended the steep hill into Wrotham village and pulled up at the"Bull" Inn, into whose hospitable portal Mr. Shrig vanished, to pursuethose enquiries he had repeated at every posthouse along the road.

  Presently as I sat, reins in hand, an ostler appeared who, graspingthe horse's bridle and heeding me no whit, led us into the stableyard. And here I found Mr. Shrig leaning upon his knotted stick andlost in contemplation of a dusty chaise beneath which lay a perspiringand profane postboy busied with divers tools upon the front axle.

  Now as I glanced at the vehicle, something about it struck me asfamiliar and then, despite the dust, I saw that it had red wheels anda black body picked out in yellow.

  "Ah, Mr. Shrig," said I, "if this is the chaise you are so interestedabout, I think I can tell you who rode in it."

  "And who would you name, sir?"

  "Captain Danby," I answered.

  "Aye, to be sure, sir. Then just step into the stable wi' me!"

  Wondering, I obeyed and beheld a hissing ostler rubbing down a dustyhorse.

  "Why, this animal is mine!" I exclaimed. "This is Caesar, one of mysaddle horses."

  "Aye, to be sure, sir!" nodded Mr. Shrig. "Wiciousness has beena-ridin' in that theer chaise an' Windictiveness a-gallopin' arter onyour 'oss. P'raps you can likewise tell me who't was as rode your'oss?"

  "No," I answered, "unless--good heaven, can it be Anthony--my friendMr. Vere-Manville?"

  "Name sounds familiar!" said Mr. Shrig, rubbing his nose thoughtfully,while his keen gaze roved here and there.

  "Where is Captain Danby--I want a word with him," said I, steppinghastily out of the stable.

  "The Cap'n, sir," answered Mr. Shrig close to my elbow, "havin'partook of a glass o' brandy an' vater, has took a little valk a-topof it, an' the evenin' bein' so fine or as you might say balmy, Ithink we'll go a-valking too--"

  Reaching the narrow street I espied the tall, lounging form of CaptainDanby some considerable distance ahead and instinctively hastened mysteps.

  "Verefore the hurry, sir?" enquired Mr. Shrig, laying a finger on myarm.

  "I must speak with yonder scoundrel."

  "Scoundrel is the werry i-dentical vord, sir--but bide a bit--easy itis."

  As he spoke, the Captain turned out of the street into a field pathshaded by a tall hedge; in due time we also came to this path and sawa shady lane ran parallel with it, down which a man was walking. Wehad gone but a little way along this path when Mr. Shrig halted andseating himself upon the grassy bank, took off his hat and mopped hisbrow.

  "A be-eautiful sunset, sir."

  "Yes!" I answered, turning to view the glowing splendour.

  "So werry red, Mr. Werricker, sir, like fire--like blood."

  But I noticed that his keen glance was fixed upon the little wood thatgloomed some distance before us, also that he held his head aslant asone who listens intently, and had taken out his ponderous watch.

  "Why do you sit there, Mr. Shrig?" I enquired, a little impatiently.

  "I'm a-vaitin', sir."

  "What for, man?"

  "Hush, sir, and you'll soon--"

  The word was lost in a strange, sudden, double concussion of sound.

  "At ex-actly twenty-two minutes to eight, sir!" said Mr. Shrig, andrising to his feet, set off briskly along the path. We had almostreached the wood I have mentioned when Mr. Shrig raised his knobbedstick to point at something that sprawled grotesquely across the path.The hat had fallen and rolled away and staring down into the horror ofthis face fouled with blood and blackened with powder, I recognisedthe features of Captain Danby.

  "So here's the end o' Wiciousness," said Mr. Shrig and as he leanedupon his stick I saw his bright glance roving here and there; itflashed along the path before us; it swept the thicker parts of thehedge behind us; it questioned the deepening shadow of the copse."Aye, here's an end to Number Vun, and if we look in the vood yonder,I fancy we shall see summat o' Number Two. This vay, sir--you can seethe leaves is bloody hereabouts if you look--this vay!" Like one in anevil dream I followed him in among the trees and was aware that he hadhalted again.

  "What now--what is it?" I questioned.

  "Number Two, sir, and--look yonder, and--by Goles, 'e's dodged melikewise--burn my neck if 'e ain't!"

  As he spoke, Mr. Shrig parted the kindly leaves and I beheld the formof my servant Clegg, as neat and precise in death as he had ever beenin life.

  "Poor lad!" said Mr. Shrig, baring his head. "Ye see, 'e 'appened tolove Nancy Price, sir--the wictim o' Wiciousness yonder, an' 'ere'sthe result. Even walets has feelin's--this 'un werry much so!"

  "Dead?" I mumbled, feeling myself suddenly faint. "Dead--both?"

  "Aye, sir--both! Vich is comin' it a bit too low down on a man an' noerror! To ha' lost both on 'em--crool 'ard I calls it!"

  Sick with horror, I was stumbling away from this dreadful place whenMr. Shrig's voice stayed me.

  "'Old 'ard, sir--bide a bit! If the con-clusions as I've drawed iscorrect, here should be summat o' yourn."

  Turning about, I espied him on his knees, examining the contents ofthe dead man's pockets with a methodical precision that revolted me.

  "Of mine?" said I, shuddering.

  "Your werry own, sir. 'T was one o' the reasons as I brought youalong--I do 'ope Windictiveness here ain't destroyed it--ah, 'ere itis, Mr. Werricker, sir--though the seal's broke, you'll ob-serve."

  Dazed and wondering, I took the letter he held out to me, but nosooner had I glanced at the superscription than I forgot all else forthe moment.

  "How--how should that man--come by this?" I stammered at last.

  "Took or pur-loined it from the young 'ooman Nancy Price, sir,according to 'er own ewidence, as stated to me in my little officethis mornin'--an' her a-veepin' al
l over my papers, pore lass! Aha!"exclaimed Mr. Shrig, still busied on his researches. "He's got summatin this 'ere 'ind pocket as I can't come at--p'raps you'll obleege meby heavin' Windictiveness over a bit, sir? Why, never mind, sir--doneit myself--"

  "How--did the young woman come by this letter?"

  "'T is in ewidence as years ago she was maid to a lady--now Mrs.Vere-Manville, it was give her by that same. What, are ye goin', sir?Werry good, this ain't exactly a cheery spot at present. Will you beso obleegin' as to send a cart an', say, a 'urdle for these ere birdso' mine?"

  And so I left him, sitting between his "birds" whose flying days weredone, busily making notes in his little book, very like someindustrious clerk posting his ledger for the day.

  Reaching the "Bull" Inn, I despatched cart and hurdle as desired and,ordering rooms for the night, shut myself therein to escape thegeneral hubbub and horrified questioning my news had called forth. Andhere, remote from all and sundry, I unfolded the letter a dead man'shand had opened and read these words:

  Knowing you vile, I should have grieved for you, pitied you, but loved you still. Believing me vile, you are pitiless, cold, and with no mercy in you. Indeed and you would have shamed me! But true love, being of Heaven, knows no shame and can never die. Oh, you poor, blind Peregrine.